Droning On

Today hasn't gone terribly well, thus far.

I woke up with a horribly stiff neck causing a lot of pain whenever I turn to my left hand side. An old netball injury occasionally requires expensive trips to the osteopath. I'll get my wallet. 

Note to self: remove superfluous magazine-style cushions and pillows that have been artfully arranged across the bed before going to sleep. 

I came downstairs to be confronted by a utility room that was decorated in mountains of 'loose' dog poo. Not to be outdone, the cat seems to have joined in, for good measure. The description that I gave to a sleeping Hearth-Father was a little less measured, but probably not fit for blog post publication. 

Note to self: do not feed leftover chilli to the dog.

But the big story of the day came just after breakfast. Here is a picture of a sad little boy, holding an empty box:

Yesterday he enjoyed the rare treat of a visit to the toy shop. After much deliberation he chose to spend all his Christmas money on a drone. Said drone disappeared this morning on its maiden flight. Very possibly, it is perched atop our roof, or stuck inside our chimney. Looking upwards and searching the skies has done little to help my neck pain.  The strategic deployment of neighbours at upper storey windows has failed to yield any results. It is like it has disappeared into thin air. (Please let there not be any untoward activity at nearby airports this afternoon.)

Note to self: ensure seven-year-old has achieved full license before allowing solo drone flying.

Just about to attempt to cook roast lunch in an attempt to restore family harmony. What could possibly go wrong?

Currently reading: Roar by Celia Ahern

It's All Greek To Me

It has been a busy old week with regards to the combined demands of primary school and social commitments. Monday was 'Superhero Day' for Year 2. Eddie hasn't worn a superhero costume for a couple of years, so some improvisation was needed. 

Yesterday was 'Forest Schools' followed by a party at a local farm park. This required the sorting out of a present for the birthday girl - on a school night - and, with an after work meeting and ferrying the kids to clubs until 9pm, I left Daddy in charge. He surpassed himself. I had expected a tenner stuffed in a card, but the present was thoughtfully chosen, wrapped and delivered on time.  

Today was 'Greek Day' for Year 5, so, following the success of mid-week birthday-gate, Hearth-Father was promoted to costume design for the first time. With hindsight, I don't know why I have found the last few years remotely stressful. I should have handed over responsibilities a long time ago. I may be about to announce my retirement. Somehow he managed this:

And is utterly forgiven for raiding the wardrobe for my sandals and destroying a pillow case. I have no idea about the authenticity, but am overwhelmed by the commitment. After nineteen years I have discovered my husband's secret dressmaking skill. The needle and cotton are his domain from now on.

Currently reading: The Mere Wife by Maria Dahvana Headley

A Variation On 'The Dog Ate My Homework'

As a teacher, I have heard every excuse for late or missing homework over more than two decades.

At home, I'm very good at checking on the homework produced by Gertie. Obviously I want her to succeed and all, but I also don't want her to get into trouble with any of my colleagues now that she is in secondary school. Might be a bit awkward. It helps that she is relatively organised, and that the homework is emailed to me directly as well as to her through the school's automated system.

Gilby isn't so good at motivating himself to do anything that isn't football, so I've also had half an eye on his homework over the years and we've had a number of Sunday afternoon 'prompts'. (He might call them 'rows'.)

But in the tradition of third children having to fend for themselves, it seems I have rather abandoned Eddie - and so he's had to organise himself for a while. And when I say 'a while' that probably means his entire school career after the first fortnight.

But it's holiday time and Christmas is all wrapped up, so I thought it would be good to show interest.  It provoked mixed feelings, therefore, when I came across this little gem in his homework book this morning:

Didn't seem quite fair to berate him for the spelling, missed capitals, etc. There is something refreshingly - and frighteningly - honest about seven-year-olds.

Currently reading: Things A Bright Girl Can Do by Sally Nicholls

The Angel Gabriel Bit Me Once

"The Angel Gabriel bit me once..."

Those immortal words were uttered by Gertie, whilst watching her little brother perform in the (unsatisfyingly small - am I allowed to say that?) role of 'Courtier Number Two' in the KS2 nativity last week. It was the usual novel re-framing of the Christmas story, (even though this is a church school so you'd think that a 'straight' version would be encouraged). This year's was The Magical Jigsaw Puzzle.

We were commenting on how good the girl playing Gabriel was (very large role; her mother must have been pleased).

It's not the sort of behaviour you expect from God's messenger, frankly. Gertie explained that way back in the days when she was at primary school (like, last term), she was assigned as the girl's 'buddy'. Not an easy mission, given the biting.

Still, just goes to show.  Not sure what, but I'm sure it shows something. I'd love to include a picture of the biting archangel, but photographing other people's children is definitely frowned upon; so I'll concentrate on my own.

Eddie certainly made the most of Courtier Number Two, delivering all six lines with volume and expression. And helping out other members of the cast with theirs - whether they wanted him to or not, frankly.

Last day of term. Only the 'reindeer cones' for sale on the playground and PTA 'lucky dip' to dodge at pick up this afternoon and we are there. And so, as Tiny Tim said, "A Merry Christmas to us all; God bless us, every one!"

Currently reading: The End We Start From by Megan Hunter

More Tooth Fairy Troubles

Eddie lost his first 'legitimate' tooth yesterday. (I don't think having one knocked out in an incident at school really counts?)

Said tooth was carefully placed in a cup for safekeeping. Said cup was then carefully washed and put away. Accidentally. 

"Never mind," said Eddie, pragmatically. "I have a plan!"

Top marks for resourcefulness. Dropped a few for spelling and punctuation.

In the midst of Goodwood Revival madness in our house this weekend, the situation got forgotten, until I remembered at about 6am this morning. I snuck in with a pound, but was unable to retrieve the correspondence. 

Eddie was confused. "I've got a pound...but the fairy hasn't taken the letter! Why not? And if they didn't take the letter, how did they know?"

"Um....I think tooth fairies just know when teeth fall out. And perhaps the letter was too...large for them to take."

Very few marks for resourcefulness. Dropped marks for forgetfulness.

No longer smashing parenting.

Currently reading: Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott

From In The Navy To Being Marooned

Today was a big day: Gertie's transition from primary to secondary school.

I don't think I got upset back when any of the kids first started in reception. I was happy that they didn't cry and actually wanted to go, and I don't remember it being hard to deal with. In fact, each time one of them started school I actually think I was happy to have reduced the nursery bill. And when Eddie went to school and the kiddivoucher payments finally stopped so that I was back to full salary, it was brilliant.

And I was working at the end of last term so I didn't get to do all the end of year assembly stuff that they do to mark the end of primary school. Hearth father went and found it all a little bit emosh, but it all sort of passed me by. I was pleased that at 'prom' she still wanted a quite girly dress, unlike some of her friends who looked far too sexy for eleven. She looked beautiful and grown up and dignified.

But this morning was a big deal. For her, it definitely was. All her clothes were laid out the night before. There was a lot of preparation. I got a big squeezy cuddle behind closed doors but a cool blown kiss once we were in the street and I fear that is how it will be from now on. I didn't expect it to be quite such a big deal for me though, to feel quite so emotional this morning; it kind of hit me from nowhere: My little girl is really grown up and confidently moving on.

I took her for an ice cream at the end of the day though.

Tooth Fairy Needs to Remortgage

Gertie begins her secondary school adventure in the morning. Her clothes are laid out ready, the new blazer has its purple flash sewn on denoting her new house colours, the shoes are polished, the school bag and PE kit packed. 

But that's not the story. No, the story is that Mother Nature has picked tonight for Gertie to lose three teeth. In the space of about eight minutes. And a fourth is very wobbly and painful. Calpol required. 

So now, anxious to create a good impression tomorrow, she will in fact resemble a pirate - or a geriatric - every time she opens her mouth.

More to the point, we've had to make an emergency trip to the bank to fund the fallout.

C'est la vie.

Currently reading: Imagine Me Gone by Adam Haslett